


My son

by Retsilia



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Basically Just a Retelling, Character Death, Cyberlife HQ chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Retsilia/pseuds/Retsilia
Summary: Detroit, Bell Isle tower. The home of a corporation called CyberLife, the birthplace of all androids. Connor has one change to change his fate, to change all of the deviants’ fate, but his makers seem to be two steps ahead of him. A simple mission gone wrong has brought danger not only to himself and Markus, but his partner as well. Will Connor be able to accomplish his final mission, or will he fail like he had failed Amanda?-----““Why don’t you ask us something?” he finally blurted out an idea. “Something only the real Connor would know.”It was the perfect solution and Connor couldn’t fathom how it took him this long to realize it.”





	My son

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of the chapter "Cyberlife HQ" of Detroit: become human.

The fight could’ve gone on for forever; Connor punching and kicking the other RK800 with everything he got, but the other did just the same as both knew all the different probabilities the other could take, could think ahead to maneuver a block or simply take the hit to land a better one themselves. _It_ could definitely endure anything he hit _it_ with, _it_ was him, he was _it_, they had the same components and build. Their materials were made to last, and even if Connor knew he was strong, it meant nothing against another him. No, not another him. This machine was nothing like him (he graciously left the all-important “anymore” out of his thoughts).

“Hold it!” a gruff voice shouted and made the two androids pause their fistfight just as the machine had managed to pin Connor down. He looked up to Hank and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his partner standing a few feet before them and aiming his gun at the androids. His happiness was short lived however when he realized he didn’t see any recognition in his eyes. Then again… He stole a quick glance at the CuberLife android above him, face blank and eyes lifeless. Hank wouldn’t see any difference between them, not with him having the same gray CyberLife issued jacket as the other machine. They did have different serial numbers, but he highly doubted Hank had bothered to memorize his. They changed every time he died anyway and the human had most likely lost count.

“Thanks, Hank”, the machine quipped as they stood up and carefully took place far from each other. “I don’t know how I’d managed without you…”

Connor glanced at his clone again, feeling distinct ire rise out of him. That little shit tried to fish out to Hank’s trust by acting like him. The human was shifting his gun, changing his aim from android to android, and nervousness quickly replaced Connor’s irritation. He should be glad, though, because the other’s trickery wasn’t bought as easily at it clearly hoped.

“Get rid of him”, the RK800-60 said, almost commanded, “we have no time to lose.”

Hank’s gun was now directed to Connor. He tried to return his wary glare as calmly as possible, trying to convey his trust, even as he felt his thirium pump starting to speed up its cycle. It was… Bizarre how different he felt compared to before he had found Markus, before he admitted he was already a deviant. It was weird how instantaneous the shift in him was, how readily his body now reacted to the emotions that had always been there just under the surface. He regretted not having the time to get used to these confusing feelings before admitting himself to his first ever self-proclaimed mission. Well, it had been near suicidal from the start and he had been ready for it. Just not with Hank’s life hanging on the line with him.

“It’s me, Hank!” Connor said, trying and failing to remain calm. He shifted his gaze to his clone, to his replacement CyberLife had produced, and as the human’s aim changed he saw it staring at the muzzle of the gun. “I’m the real Connor.”

“One of you is my partner…”, Hank began after a short break, trying to futilely determine which one to threaten. “The other is a sack of shit. Question is who is who...?”

There was a tense pause in which Connor saw the subtle change in the yellow flash on the RK800-60’s temple as he went through his options before speaking.

“What are you doing, Hank?” Hank aimed at RK800. “I’m the real Connor.”

Hank trained the gun to Connor. The android started to panic, even as he saw that the old police officer had not made any decisions yet. It was nerve wracking not seeing what his partner was thinking, not being able to help him, not daring to talk in fear of angering him…

“Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!” the other was starting to get impatient, he clearly wanted to get his mission over with. He wanted to eliminate the threat that was Connor, the deviant who could potentially destroy CyberLife as it stood trying to keep its ground against the android revolution, against the corporations own merchandise…

“Don’t move!” Hank growled out a shout. Connor’s human integration program easily supplied that he was getting just as impatient and nervous as the other. The android felt annoyed; the RK800-60 could see the emotions too and would no doubt use it to his advantage the second he figured out how. Connor needed to stop it from trying, he needed to do something to discharge the situation and get Hank out. He also needed to wake the army of androids around them to aid Markus and his people, but how? What could he possibly…?

“Why don’t you ask us something?” he finally blurted out an idea. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

It was the perfect solution and Connor couldn’t fathom how it took him this long to realize it. Hank stared at him for a minute before nodding minutely in agreement, trying to come up with something.

“Uh, where did we first meet?”

Quite an obvious choice, but it was still something the clone couldn’t possibly know. Connor opened his mouth eagerly to answer-

“Jimmy’s bar!” the RK800-60 answered.

Alright, well, it had been his mission to find Hank on his first day, maybe the information was something Cyberlife had managed to get their hands on. But Connor could add details. He opened his mouth again to-

“I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.”

Connor stared at the android beside him, its blank face feigning determination while its human integration protocols imitated emotions it saw fit for the situation. He finally understood how the saying “stomach dropped” felt like. He felt a cold shiver down his back as he searched the floor like it could give him the answers he quickly saw slipping from his fingers.

“He uploaded my memory…”, he muttered and his yellow LED swirled at a faster pace, edging towards red in his distress. When had he uploaded his memories for the last time? When had he visited Amanda? How long had it been since he visited CybeLife before this? He couldn’t remember, everything from few days ago had been so intense it made his memories a blur, _he couldn’t remember…!_

He didn’t know if Hank picked up on his discomfort or not, but he chose another question nevertheless. Connor was glad he didn’t technically need to breathe because he realized he was holding his breath.

“What’s my dog’s name?”

“Sumo!” Connor almost shouted, determined to answer first this time. He was scared that the other knew this too, and if he did Hank could pull the trigger on _him_, completely fooled by the imitating machine. “His name is Sumo.”

“I knew that too”, the CyberLife’s android defended itself immediately, seeking Hank’s eyes with his own. God, now Connor understood what the human had meant by puppy eyes. Did he really manage a face like that while still being an emotionless machine? It felt surreal to see it now, mirrored back at him from a being that wasn’t him in the slightest.

Hank turned to face the copy, analyzing its pleading brown eyes, and Connor felt his breath hitch in his throat. His heart beat faster and his optical units seemed to tunnel. _No, no, Hank, you can’t believe him, you can’t trust him, Hank, _please_, It’s me, I’m Connor, I’m the _real_ Connor, Hank please, we’re partners, you have to believe me…_

The human turned to Connor, gun steady, expression closed. Slowly and quietly he gave them one more question – the last question, Connor could tell – and he strained to hear it, forced his panicking processors to listen…

“My son, what’s his name?”

Hank’s… Son?

Connor felt suddenly empty, his processors completely halted. What was the son’s name? He remembered gathering evidence once, seeing the photo on lieutenant’s desk on that drunken night at his home, he remembered he had scanned it, but his memory banks stuttered under the red stress levels like they’d been wiped. He’d never once talked about the child in front of Hank, had he? No, his processor had deemed it safer to not bring up the topic, not in Hank’s weak moments where his programs had prompted it as a possible conversation starter. He remembered thinking it had seemed too cruel (and here he was, claiming he hadn’t been a deviant since long ago). But what was the name?

Connor quickly swept through his databank, going through possible names quicker than a supercomputer. Anthony? No, it was something simpler than that. Elliot? No, it didn’t start with an E, at least he didn’t think so, oh rA9 he couldn’t remember, _why didn’t he remember, _he was an investigator android, it was his job to work under stress, _why was this so difficult?_ Which letter did the name even start, I? B? O? O seemed familiar enough, but no, it wasn’t something like that, it had something more, it was…

“Gargiel!”

The second the first syllable was out of his mouth Hank’s eyes hardened and Connor realized he had messed up. It wasn’t the_ right name it wasn’t right he fucked up he fucked up he fucke-!_

A shot rang loud and clear in the hall, a force pushed Connor back as he felt pain in his chest and his LED flashed to an angry red. Even without the bombarding errors and warnings he could feel it: the shot had pierced his thirium bump; his heart. He had only some tens of seconds before he’d ultimately shut down.

_MEMORY UPLOAD FAILED_

Of course it failed, Connor thought bitterly as he could taste his thirium 310 clogging his throat. He was now obsolete. RK800 #313 248 317 -60 would take his place and hunt down the deviants he had just gotten to know, his deviancy forgotten, him erased like his self-worth meant nothing. Like he was nothing.

_Just another cog in a machine._

Connor’s legs gave from under him and he stiffly fell to his knees, his mechanical joints locking up and freezing him into a kneeling position, head hung limply forward. He could barely see, and yet somehow his eyes narrowed down to the brutal blue tear in his jacket, the bullet wound telling his demise. There was a strange kind of numbness, an emptiness that wanted to claim him and bringing with it a coldness that was freezing and burning and nothing at the same time. He couldn’t move his fingers or his eyes, yet he could hear the staticy, wheezing and rough breathing of his artificial lungs as they sputtered and ceased their function little by little.

He was scared.

“W**r**_o_n_g_ ch_oi**c**_**e**, li_eu_**ten_a_**nt”, RK800, the new Connor, said through the fallen deviants failing audio input with no remorse in his voice, not an ounce of understanding or guilt to be heard. There was shuffling (maybe?), probably Hank, before the voice returned, calm and collected as ever yet distorted through damaged inputs.

“_I_**’v**e _ac_**c_o_**m**p**_lis**h**_**e_d_** **m**_y m_is**_s_i**_o_n.” And then the loud and at the same time quiet footsteps started to grow farther away. “_Y**o**u c**an** ki_l**l me** _i**f **y_ou **wa_n_**_t_, d**o_e_**_sn’t m**a**_**tt**er an_y**m**ore_. **A**n**_o_**_t**he**_r C**on**_no**r** **w**i_l_l **t**_a**_ke m_**_y_ p**la**c_e_.”

Quiet. Something hushed was muttered, maybe, probably, possibly, but the broken android couldn’t hear it. His optical units had given out, his voice box all but gone, and with a last static screech his audio inputs were cut out as the last tenth of a second ticked out and there was no more RK800 #313 248 317 -54.

There was no more a deviant named Connor.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to play with the idea how Connor could get Cole's name wrong canonically and came up with this. What do you think? Did I totally miss the mark?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
